


foregone

by Contentious



Series: and they all lived happily ever after [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fix-It, Gen, Post-Endgame, further fix-its to follow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 07:27:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18633562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Contentious/pseuds/Contentious
Summary: "Steven, son of Sarah."





	foregone

He holds onto the Soul Stone longest.

Each stone had been returned to the time and place from whence they'd been taken out of this universe, save for this one.  The case containing them felt no lighter with each stone gone, hanging heavy in his hand with the weight of Natasha's life.  The weight of her smile at all of them as they had prepared to jump through time, and her light, hopeful words.  It hangs with the weight of her heart,  _their_  heart, in truth; the Avengers' heart.  She had held them together for so long, and when they crumbled she clung to each piece like a vice, protecting everyone she could, however she could, no matter the personal cost.  

Whatever it took.  Always.

The steps to the summit are steep and the cold seeps into his bones as he climbs.  The eternal eclipse hangs in the sky overhead, its pale light shining over the barren, grey planet.  Steve thinks that if there is a Hell, it might look something like this.  A shadowy realm of bleak hopelessness; an expanse of empty, grey nothing stretching out as far as the eye can see.  The landscape falls away from his notice as he carries on, his eyes only upon the peak, on this final task. He’s close.

“Steven, son of Sarah.”

The words chill his bones more than the air around the peak. Ten years isn’t long enough to forget a voice, and certainly not that one. Steve hadn’t given much thought to Clint’s description of the creature when he heard it, as they all grieved. Now as he looks up at the ragged cloaked figure drifting down the staircase, he’s faced with the unmistakeable visage of Johann Schmidt.

“Why am I not surprised?” The low, accented voice continues, almost impassive. Steve’s grip on the case tightens, his body tensing. His empty hand grasps at air, missing the weight of Mjolnir. “The first in all my years as custodian to ever return with the stone. Of course it would be you.”

“Schmidt.” He says, voice tight and even, an old fury boiling just under the surface.

“Ah.” The wraith ponders. “An old name from an old life, long gone. Every year you spent in the ice and thereafter, I spent here on this barren rock. I am not what I once was. Hubris brought me here, to think I could wield an Infinity Stone with my own hands, and laid me low. Our past as adversaries does not matter now, Steven. I am simply a guide. A ghost from your past to lead you to your future.”

The Red Skull pulls aside, opening his arm toward the path ahead, the last few steps toward the edge. Steve watches him drift there and there’s a piece inside of him that wants to throw himself at his old foe, make him pay for the years lost, for Natasha’s life. It’s wasted energy, the rage building inside him, and finally, Steve lets it go. He gazes past Schmidt, toward the cliff’s edge.

The future awaits, he won’t waste more time on the past.

Steve steps forward, walking to the edge. It isn’t even an hour after Clint and Natasha would have been here. Clint leaving alone, soaked to the bone and his heart cleaved in two.

If he looks down, will he see her?

He turns quickly away from the ledge, setting down the case and opening it. His eyes sting with cold and unshed tears. The stone gleams in the case and he sits there for too long looking at it. They lost once because he refused to trade lives. Refused to allow the noble sacrifice offered. Yet sacrifices were still made. Too many. He takes a shaky breath, reaching up to wipe at his eyes.

“What do I do?” He asks.

“Your task is done, as it was laid out. The stone is returned to the time and place from which it was taken.” Schmidt replies. “You may leave it, and this place.”

“Here, with _you_?” Steve looks up sharply. “I don’t think so.”

He sees the wraith smile, a strange expression on such a face, and it fills Steve with unease. He grips the sides of the case tightly, glaring up at the man - the _creature_. Schmidt looks past him, toward the ledge, unconcerned.

“Then cast it back, over the edge that Miss Romanoff flung herself from for it.”

Steve flinches, his mind conjuring the image of Natasha falling, a smile on her face. He takes a steadying breath and pries the Soul Stone from the case. The others, he would not dare to touch, but this one sits benign in his palm as he stands and faces the ledge. He dares not look down. Instead he looks at the stone, and thinks that it’s about the shade of Natasha’s hair.

“Thanks, Nat.” He whispers solemnly. “For everything.”

He turns his palm over the edge and the stone falls.

A solitary tear rolls down Steve’s cheeks as he blinks and looks up at the clouded sky. He hears nothing from below, no echo of the stone hitting rock, and the Red Skull is silent behind him. Lightning rumbles through the dark clouds above and the wind bites at his skin. He feels no lighter, and he suspects he won’t for a long time.

A pulse radiates out from the clouds. Steve takes a staggering step back as he feels it rumble through his body. Light glows up from the chasm below and he looks over the edge, finally, as it something flashes brightly from its depths, arcing up toward the sky.

“A Soul for a soul.” The wraith says.

Steve turns away from the blinding light, toward the voice, confusion racing through him at the words. When he faces where the Red Skull once hovered, he’s nowhere in sight. Neither is the archway he’d passed under, nor the stairs he’d climbed. The cold, grey horizon is gone, and instead a deep orange light stretches toward the heavens. Steve takes a step and feels resistance at his feet, hears the swirl of water around his boots and looks down.

He’s standing in water that rises up to his shins, reflecting the gleaming oranges and blues of the sky as far as the eye can see. The runed stone is gone, and the air is no longer frigid, but warm and humid.

“Steve?”

It punches his breath out of him, the sound of her voice. He struggles to catch it as he spins around, ripples in the water flowing out from his motion, and he sees her. Her brow is pinched in worry, her eyes darting around in confusion, face framed by the beautiful fire of her hair. She stands not ten feet away from him, just as he’d last seen her.

“Nat?” His voice cracks and her focus pulls to him as she hears it. She wades through the water toward him and when he can finally find control of his feet, he meets her with a few steps. She opens her mouth to speak but Steve silences her by wrapping his arms tight around her slight frame. She wheezes slightly.

“Careful, there, Rogers.” She says, voice tight. “You’re gonna squeeze the life out of me.”

Steve lets go quickly, but holds his hands on her arms, maintaining that connection, that proof that she’s here and real. She’s smiling at him as he pulls back, but it fades into something edging on despair.

“What happened, Steve? Steve- _where’s Clint?_ ” She demands, a pained tone coming into her voice.

“He’s fine,” Steve breathes, looking at her still as if she couldn’t possibly be real. “We’re all okay, Nat. We did it. _You_ did it.”

Natasha’s expression eases and her lips twitch into a sly smile. She pushes her fist against Steve’s chest, in a light tap.

“Never doubted you for a second, Rogers.” She says, but her expression becomes confused again, though her smile lingers. “But, then… how am I here? What are _you_ doing here?”

“Returning the stone.” Steve says, a crooked smile coming to his face. “Guess no one’s ever done that before.”

“A soul for a soul.” Natasha mutters, then huffs a laugh and puts her arms around Steve. “Not so everlasting, I guess.”

Suddenly the air is cold again, the sky dark, and they both turn to see the guide, hovering at the edge of the cliff, head tilted upward to the circle of clouds above. The orange horizon is gone, and they stand once more at the summit of Vormir’s peak. The Red Skull turns toward them.

“It is done. The Soul Stone is returned. Now go.” He says.

Steve doesn’t hesitate a single moment, he takes Natasha’s hand, punching in the time for her suit. To return to when he left, when Bruce and Sam are waiting for him to return. Not Bucky. Bucky knew. Bucky knew before he did.

“This’ll take you to the new time platform.” He says quickly. He smiles briefly at her. “It’s been more than a minute.”

His heart is racing as he finishes synchronizing her suit. One last thing. This one last thing he can fix. It’s harder now, but his choice is still the same. He’ll send her home first, though. He’ll make sure she gets back to Clint, back to her family, back to the Avengers. He can do that much.

He wonders if he still had Mjolnir, if it would still allow him to lift it.

Steve’s hand stills as Natasha puts hers over it.

“You’re not coming with me, are you?” She says, too knowingly. Steve meets her eyes and he wonders how she does it, how she always sees them. Her eyes are piercing and unfathomably _kind_ as they look at him. “Or you are, but you’re not staying. Not with us, anyway.”

“Nat-” he tries to conjure up any explanation, any excuse, but no words come. Natasha squeezes his hand.

“ _Hey_. It’s okay.” She says, and Steve doesn’t know how they could have ever missed it, could have ever known her as anything other than the best of them when she has every reason not to be. The life she had before Clint, before SHIELD, before the Avengers, it tried to take every ounce of goodness from her; every shred of kindness and compassion a person could have. Yet she stands here looking at him with the softest green eyes that he’s ever seen, and the gentlest heart shining in them.

Natasha’s eyes shimmer with tears but she smiles. She lifts her hand to the suit’s control.

“It’s okay,” she says again. “We’re gonna be okay.” She smiles beautifully through her tears. “See you in a minute.”

He laughs, because there’s nothing else he can do. In a flash, a crack, they both go home.

**Author's Note:**

> I walked into that movie wearing a Black Widow costume and an arc reactor necklace, wearing an Iron Man hat and drinking from an Iron Man mug.
> 
> Needless to say, this is the result of that heartbreak.


End file.
